Press the Cat

Several years ago, we gave our niece an electronic "learning" toy for Christmas. The machine would instruct you to press a certain color, number, animal, etc., then reward you with sounds and lights when you were correct.

Eagerly, she sat before the board, her little hand poised over it, awaiting the first command.

"Touch the cat," a woman's voice cooed encouragingly.

Her face wreathed with smiles, she pressed the correct picture and we all waited expectantly for the cat to "meow".

"Touch the cat," the voice ordered again.

A slightly doubtful frown marred her brow, but she stuck to her guns and pressed the same picture.

"Touch the cat." Press. "Touch the cat." Press. Her lower lip began to tremble.

"Touch the cat, touch the cat, touch the cat," the voice sadistically taunted her.

Frustrated beyond bearing, she pounded one last time on the cat and then burst into tears.

After using the self-checkout at the grocery store yesterday, I know how she felt.

Generally, my goal is to get in and out of the store as quickly as possible. I grab a basket, take out my list and head off down the first aisle like I'm a contestant on a game show. No standing in long checkout lines for me and having the laundry detergent put on top of my eggs. Uh-uh. Self-checkout is the only way to go. Fast, fast, fast.

Until yesterday, that is, when I got the machine clearly built by the same people who had designed that toy.

It started out innocently enough. I touched the screen to activate it, choose English (in retrospect, maybe I would have had better luck if I'd selected Spanish), and swiped my card.

Running the first item over the scanner, I heard the "blip" and placed it in the bag.

"Please remove the last item from your bag and try again," the disembodied voice directed me.
Hmm. Maybe I was too fast. Okay. I ran it over the scanner again.Once again, it "blipped" and then told me to remove the item. Not so okay this time.

The girl at the monitoring station called over, "It does that sometimes." She pressed a few buttons on her computer. "Go ahead and put it in your bag." Hmmp.

Next item. No "blip" this time. Back and forth over the scanner more slowly. Still no "blip". Laid flat. Nothing. Oh yeah, this was working much better since she pushed those buttons.

"Try again," once more she hit some buttons. Surprise! No "blip". Not even a "bl". Finally, she gave up and just entered the item manually.

Item number three. "Blip." Then, the dreaded voice. "Please place the item on the scanner and wait."

Item number four. Same song, fourth verse.

By now, the girl had come over to me, convinced that this was somehow my fault. Giving me a faintly patronizing smile, she scanned the next item, and... "Please remove the last item from the bag..." It seemed Bride of Hal didn't like her any better than she liked me.

And so it continued with items five, six, seven, and eight. "Please scan item again.", "Remove last item from bag.", "Place item on scanner." (Press the cat, press the cat, press the cat!!!)

By now, my frustration was growing even faster than the line behind me. If I had wanted it to be this long and painful, I would have gotten in line behind the woman with five kids and two carts. Even the manager could not win in the "blip" "Try again.", "blip" "Try again." game. Eventually, even she conceded defeat and entered the remaining items manually.

Not to be outdone though, the computer had the last word. As we all walked away, the smug voice followed us across the front of the store, "Thank you for shopping with us." I believe this is when the manager burst into tears.